Page 65 of Empire of Carnage
I pulled a bobby pin from my fancy but now disheveled hair and forced it into the lock, jiggling it until I felt the resistance I needed and turning until I heard it click. I opened the door slowly, finding the room still dark and empty. A cloud of disappointment loomed over me. I really thought I’d find him here, waiting for me.
I thought at this point we’d been doing this dance long enough that we moved in sync, a macabre choreography of carnage that only ended with shallow graves. We’d been playing cat and mouse for years and I hadn’t noticed I’d become the predator, checking behind the curtains to see if I could strike him first.
Was it all in my head? Was he even here?
My stomach dropped at the thought of him still being at El Palacio, wreaking havoc and promising death to all the men sworn to me. My fears were short-lived. Just then, I heard heavy footsteps and a deep voice barking orders in spanish from outside the door. I ran to my papá’s giant oak desk, scurrying underneath just in time to hear the door creak open and see the light shining into the room from out in the hallway.
I smiled to myself, my confidence skyrocketing.
Ignacio never let me down before, why would he start now?
I heard his man anxiously telling him that a car pulled up to the property, but they couldn’t find us. I hoped Santos was smart enough to stay undetected, reassuring myself that I’d brought the right man along for the job. Ronan would have broken through the front door with open fire, cutting down my tío’s men by the handful until one of them shot him dead.
This was too personal to go down that way.
There was only one person who needed to die. Two who truly deserved it.
But today wasn’tmyday, so one would do.
He kept the light off, slow footsteps tapped on the floor one at a time as he made his way closer to the desk. My heart thundered so hard in my chest I thought surely it would give me away. His feet appeared right in front of me, with a screeching sound he dragged the chair from the desk and plopped down.
Oh, he was making it too easy.
I didn’t believe in karma, but it seemed like the bitch was really on my side lately.
A knife to the foot, then a bullet to the head.
No, that would be too quick.
And too loud.
I had to kill him quietly unless I planned to deal with however many men he had trapped in this house with us. I was a ballsy pendeja, but the thing about being a bad bitch, was also knowing your limits.
I heard the flickering of the lighter letting me know the pompous dickhead actually thought he was going to smoke a cigar while he waited for me to walk into his trap. Like I was that easy to kill. I was feeling sort of fucking offended about the whole thing.
My heart sped up even more and I gripped my knife tighter, the sweat in my palm coating the handle of the blade as I tried to figure out which foot I was going to be stabbing. Then his hand reached into the desk, his fingers wrapping around my throat as he pulled me out and slammed my back against the desk. I couldn’t cry out from the pain, he squeezed too tight, his sausage-like fingers crushing my windpipe and putting painful pressure on my eyes.
I sent my arm flying, hoping to stab at him, but my body was too focused on self-preservation. My free hand struggled with his grip around my neck while the other fought to keep the blade in my clutches. He pulled me by the neck, lifting my head off the table just enough to slam it back down with force. I bit back a yell, hoping the noise wouldn’t call his men in for reinforcement.
“Maldita puta,” he cursed me. “All this trouble just for a few million dollars,” he spat out and I wheezed, slapping and scratching at him while I felt the crushing power of his grip squeezing my arm painfully.
He truly knew nothing if he thought this was over a few million dollars.
It was overbillions.
It was over everything that was meant to be mine.
I spit, landing right in the middle of his face and painting a disgusted look onto his expression as he fought to decide whether or not he was going to risk giving me a chance to free myself if he cleaned it off.
He pulled me by the throat once more and sent my head flying down twice as hard as before. I cried out in pain, and he squeezed my throat tighter.
“This is over Celia. You will pass the credentials of the dungeons to me, or you will die right here, right now.”
I cackled in his hold, the deranged look on my face only provoking him further into a rage-fueled spiral.
“If you kill me, you stay just as fucked, just as poor, and just the same sorry excuse for a jefe that you’ve been this whole time. So fucking kill me payaso. You don’t scare me anymore.”
He slapped me across the face, the steel force of his palm cutting into my skin. A pool of liquid metal slid over my taste buds while I mentally accepted my death.
